


1000 paper cranes

by Zinae



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 100 paper cranes legend, Fluffy Angst, Lance has too much love, Love, M/M, Playing with words, angsty fluff, give shance a chance, painting with words, shance, so much pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 09:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12430245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zinae/pseuds/Zinae
Summary: (One. Two. Three.)(If you fold a thousand paper cranes and make a wish on every one, it will come true.)Your hands are shaking, the tiny paper crane looks ridiculous, crooked, one measly first try.Your sister is quietly murmuring beside you, eyes closed and gripping onto thin paper, praying for something important.Your lips touch the small wings and you murmur your very own prayer, begging the gods that it's not for naught.(Please keep him safe.)





	1000 paper cranes

_ One. Two. Three. _

 

_ If you fold a thousand paper cranes and make a wish on every one, it will come true. _

 

Your hands are shaking, the tiny paper crane looks ridiculous, crooked, one measly first try.

Your sister is quietly murmuring beside you, eyes closed and gripping onto thin paper, praying for something important.

Your lips touch the small wings and you murmur your very own prayer, begging the gods that it's not for naught.

 

_ Please keep him safe. _

 

_ Twentyfive. Twentysix. Twentyseven. _

 

There is pain on your skin and never enough air in your lungs. Your chest feels too small for your heart as you crash in your room, hands grasping onto the paper crane, praying, praying, praying.

Your sisters are drumming on your door, screaming for you and you let them in. You let them in and there they are, arms full of paper, eyes filled with wishes. 

That night, you reach the first hundred cranes and barely make it into the Garrison the next day.

 

_ One hundred ten. One hundred eleven. One hundred twelve. _

Life in the Garrison is hard, but you manage. Hunk is leaning against your shoulder and Pidge disappears sometimes, but you are fine with this. Everyone has secrets and yours is hidden under your bed, in a tiny box, a secret you can’t share with Hunk or anyone else, aside from your siblings. 

You spend your holidays huddled in a corner with them, reaching three hundred cranes.

It’s a rainbow of prayers.

 

_ Please come back safe. _

 

_ Please be safe. _

 

_ Please be alive. _

 

You gravitate towards darker paper with time, rare white cranes in between, your box is too full to continue soon and you send them to your sister.

She sends back even more paper.

 

_ Four hundred ninety nine. _

 

There is hope in your heart and no more air in your lungs.

He is standing right before you, eyes dark and perfect, the front of his hair white and pretty, snow snow snow, life.

He is alive.

 

You lose all of your progress but you don’t care.

Your wish changes a little bit more with every day.

Shiro collects pretty pebbles.

He absolutely despises insects, is terrified of them actually.

He has PTSD and doesn’t sleep unless there is no other choice.

You catch him on the Holodeck some nights, staring into space, his fingers tracing faint shapes on the glass. almost like he is looking for constellations, something to remember home.

You find material that reminds you of paper and that night you start with the cranes again.

 

_ Please let me stay by his side. _

 

_ Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. _

 

_ Two hundred thirty five. Two hundred thirty six. Two hundred thirty seven. _

 

Your hands hurt, but your biggest problem is that you are almost out of paper. You find a planet with something similar sometimes, space Mall is your salvation.

 

_ Shiro’s hand on your arm, his breath on your shoulder, warmth seeping into your body. You feel like you are in heaven for a moment, but then he gasps and shoots up. His eyes are so full of fear and pain and you are too frozen to reach out and touch him. To hug him and help him.  _

 

_ Four hundred and seventy eight. Four hundred and seventy nine. Four hundred and eighty. _

 

_ Please let me help him. _

 

You pay with jokes and tears hidden in your pillow. 

Her smile is sad and gentle as you step forward to shield your family and she bows her head as you name your secret as a gift.

 

You lose all your progress again.

 

You start anew and she hands you something black and shimmery.

_ This once this is a gift. Use it wisely. _

She is gone the second you whirl around to thank her and you are left with one sparkling paper crane and a wish on your lips.

 

_ Please let me stay by his side. _

 

_ Eighty nine. Ninety. Ninetyone. _

 

Words are dripping onto paper, prayers for safety, one, two, three wishes for love and that one time you wish for Zarkon to just disappear.

But that one wish always, always, always stays.

 

_ Three hundred. Three hundred and one. three hundred and two. _

 

You teach Allura to fold paper cranes one lost evening bathed in golden light from a dying star. Shiro is sleeping on the sofa, guarded by your team. Hunk is folding one little mouse after the other, Pidge is trying to recreate Rover and Coran is failing altogether. Keith is too impatient and you teach him little finger figurines and somehow you end up telling them about that one thing keeping you together.

For a few minutes you play around with finger animals clad hands and a whole zoo of mice and cats and dogs.

No one laughs at you.

Instead you watch Allura lift her first crane and whisper a wish to it before starting with the next.

Instead Keith just hands you some more paper and you keep folding.

You feel safe for a moment. 

 

This one lost moment in time.

  
  


_ Please let me help him. _

_ Please let me be useful. _

 

_ Seven hundred sixty five. Seven hundred sixty six. Seven hundred sixty seven. _

 

_ Seven hundred seventy seven. _

 

His hand brushes yours for a moment and you smile at his back.

Keith punches your shoulder and you stick out your tongue.

You can hear Shiro laugh at something Pidge mumbles and when he looks back your eyes meet.

A moment brighter than any sun and better than falling in love for the first time.

Every day you fall a little bit faster.

A little bit deeper.

Shiro is picky about his food and hates carrots. He eats them like he is walking towards his death and you can’t help but cherish that. 

He still spends nights on the holodeck, looking for constellations, but now you are all with him. You and Pidge are making up constellations, Big Shiro, Little Hunk, Emo Tea, Lion Smile. 

 

_ Just please let me stay with him. He doesn’t have to love me. this is enough. _

 

It’s never enough. You crave his smiles, you live for his warmth and his hands on your shoulder, you sing at his praise and you fall and fall and fall with every glance, touch, and sound he makes for you.

 

_ Nine hundred eighty one. Nine hundred eighty two. nine hundred eighty three. _

 

Your lips touch tiny wings and bleed a prayer onto them.

Black is empty and your heart is breaking over and over again in your chest.

 

_ Please don’t take him away from me. _

_ Please stay safe. _

_ Please come back. _

 

_ I love you, Shiro. I love you.  _

 

_ Please let me see him for one last time. _

 

_ Please give me the chance to tell him. _

 

You just want him to live.

 

_ Nine hundred and ninety seven. Nine hundred and ninety eight. Nine hundred and ninety nine. _

 

You reach out towards him, but you step.

The rustling of your last paper crane burns in your ears and his eyes are wide and open and he is alive.

 

_ Alive. _

 

That was your last wish.

 

Your lips burn words, a joke and he smiles and the sun is bright and purple behind him. 

 

_ I love you. _

 

“I love you.”

 

You choke and he smiles. 

He smiles and he reaches out and you sob into his shoulder as you kiss his cheek and grasp onto his arms and cry your sorrow and longing onto his skin. 

It feels a little bit like painting.

 

_ One thousand. _

**Author's Note:**

> I usually write angst, so here you can have some fluff to even it out a little bit. It's angsyt fluff, but happy end is good?


End file.
